


==> ABSCOND FROM THIS LUDICROUS SITUATION AT ONCE!

by Ultimatum



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Bullying, John is a cutie, M/M, dave is still a prick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:19:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultimatum/pseuds/Ultimatum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FOR TUMBLR USER ZILLYTIME, WHO PROVIDED THE PROMPT: <br/>"what if like john and dave both got bullied or something and then one day this dude shoves john in a locker (or dave) and then the other is already inside hes like oh shit and they are pressed up to each other awkwardly omfg i’m laughing just imagine that or maybe like one of them has a crush on an other but they’ve never really have talked before."<br/>Awkwardness and gay chaos ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Your name is John Egbert and you've been stuck in this damn locker for what feels like  _ages._

Okay - exaggeration - its probably only been about ten minutes, but it feels like hours have elapsed since you got your ass slammed into it. The ventilation is exceedingly getting worse as the minutes drag on and you're barely getting enough air through the slots at the top as it is. You can barely fit into it and you have to bend your neck at an odd angle to even sardine yourself in properly.

Around the fifteen minute mark, you try yelling for help, and even though school has already ended for the day, you begin hoping, _pleading_ that someone has stuck around long enough to hear your shouting.  

Twenty minutes have passed, and you hear rapid footsteps descending from down the hall and closer to where you're trapped. They're followed closely by more footsteps; but these ones are heavier, louder, not as easy and quick as the previous person had been. 

They all stop right in front of the locker you're in and you fall silent because you  _know_ who these people are - of course you do, you _knew_ football practice was today - and they sure as hell won't jump to the chance to free you from your makeshift prison. Someone's back slams into the door and you jolt backwards, a surprised and panicked sound escaping your throat. Whoever had collided into it makes a hissing sound and begins to protest, "Hey, hey, watch the shirt, douche-bag."

"Shut the fuck up, Strider." There's a pause and you can hear the labored breathing of whoever this Strider kid is from the other side. You almost feel sorry for him. Scratch that, you feel  _immensely_ sorry for him. One of the faceless jocks from the hoard, presumably the one that had spoke before, continues, "Hey Ampora, take the kid's glasses off, will ya? You're all just gonna  _love_ this."

He begins to thrash harder than before and a long string of curses erupts from the group. By this point, you're pushing yourself to the back of your locker and hoping that he'll be alright, because  _damn,_ he must really not want them to take his glasses off- and if what they do to you is anything to go off of, this Strider kid sure is asking for a major beating with how he's acting. How he's resisting. You will him to just give in and take it. If he would just get it over with (and how you hate thinking this because no one should ever be tormented like you are) and suck it up until it's over, he won't be hurt as badly. With how he's acting, he's just asking for more trouble. 

"You son of a  _bitch,_ " one of them growls and slams him back into the locker again, harder than before, and your whole body shudders at the force of it. "Someone take them off, will ya? Hurry up before he starts struggling again."

The Strider kid moans in what you can only guess to be immense pain and you cringe back a bit.  _You can do it,_ you find yourself thinking.  _Kick him in the fucking nuts dude. Do it. Make sure that asshole can never even hope to reproduce and make more demon spawn._ But your wishes fall flat and void as all movement over on the other side stills and you can  _hear_ Strider's breath hitch. 

Then, they all burst into laughter that makes your stomach plummet to the floor. 

"Oh my god!"

"Look at them!"

"What is he, a fucking  _demon_?"

You worry your lower lip and listen to the laughter up until it subsides minutes later. Something's thrown to the ground and you hear a snapping sound; and you guess that those were Strider's glasses. You feel pity for the kid because,  _Jesus,_ they just aren't giving him a break, are they?

Someone else jeers, "Throw him into the locker!" and there's a chorus of approving laughter. Apparently, they  _hadn't_ forgot about you and just left you in here for longer on  _purpose_ , because when they open the locker they don't spare a second glance to you before shoving the Strider kid in too. _  
_

He's blond and bony and _tall,_ and his elbows and knees knock against yours uncomfortably in all the wrong places. The door is slammed shut with  terrifying conviction that feels like a prison sentence, and footsteps retreat until you're in the locker. Alone. With a kid that you've seen before in passing but have  _never even talked to._

He clears his throat like it's nobody's business, his head bent at an odd angle and one of his knees between your legs, the other somewhere near your shoulder. His back is bent nearly  _over_  your stomach and you can feel the heat of his skin even through his shirt. 

In the complete ridiculousness of the situation, he looks you straight in the eye (or you guess he does, you can't quite see in the obscurity of the locker, the only thing you _are_ sure of is that his hair is almost fucking white) and says, in all seriousness, "Sup, you come around here often?"

You huff and try to move a away from him, too close for comfort, but you're met with walls that are all closed in around you. Deciding to humor him, you roll your eyes. "Only to see you, of course."

"Oh, I'm swooning." He somehow manages to make this situation even  _more compromising_ when his knee bumps unceremoniously into your groin and you let out a yelp of surprise. In a vain attempt to salvage your manly pride, you scoot a bit from him and pretend that noise never left your lips. "I mean damn, John, you sure know how to treat a lady." 

"Wait, uh, how do you know my name?" You're pretty sure you've never even talked to this dude, so why does he know your name? It's a curious question, and a valid one at that.

Maintaining his unsettling calm facade, he somehow gets his arms from his sides and crosses them over his chest. "Math class? Ring a bell? Dave Strider, the coolest kid in the back row? Dashing good looks, and shades cooler then a penguin in an iceberg? Hello? Do you not notice me, John? Ouch, I'm severely hurt. Look, my heart's bleeding out here, the stain'll never come out. I'm too far gone, I can see the light. John Egbert doesn't love me back, my life is over."

You breathe a wheezy laugh at that. "You're a dork."

"Excuse me, I'm wounded. I'd like you to know that I am  _not_ a dork."

"No, you're most  _definitely_ a dork."

Both of you bicker back and forth for a few more minutes until you can no longer ignore the situation, as strange as it is. "How are we supposed to get out of here?"

He goes silent at that, and you both start laughing at the complete absurdity of your current situation. You both don't stop laughing until your stomachs are sore and tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes. "I don't fucking know," he says. "I guess we'll just have to wait it out until we're rescued by our knight in  shining armor then."

You don't even notice when the locker opens and the janitor, Mr. Vantas, starts screaming at you to leave and 'get the fuck out of the school', and you happily oblige with a wide smile on your face.

When you finally get to see Dave in the light, the first thing you notice are his eyes. They're bright and red and holy _fuck_ are they amazing, (and you mean that in the bro way ~~and not the homo way~~ because ha, John Egbert being a homosexual? _No way_.) You tell him this and he ruffles your hair and calls you a weirdo. 

Mr. Vantas mumbles something under his breath about both of you being insufferable children who "need to get out of his already thinning hair", and he tells you to get off of school property with what  _might_ just be a smile (it's hard to tell, honestly. It kind of looks like a grimace, too).

Dave grabs his glasses, too wrecked to salvage, from the floor and throws them in the dumpster outside with a sigh. "My bro gave me those. He's gonna be pissed when he finds out I broke them."

"Hey, I can get you a pair of shades."

He quips back that they probably wouldn't be 'ironic enough' for him or something, and you only hum in response and put your hands in your pockets and reply with a 'we'll see'.

 

You feel a smile tugging at your lips as you part ways near home. He takes out a pen, scribbles his chum-handle on your hand, and you laugh inwardly. Somehow, things had turned out for the better in the forty or so minutes you'd been stuck in that tight space with a certain Dave Strider, and you aren't complaining. 

No, you think, as you reach home in a better mood than you've been in all month, you aren't complaining at all. 


	2. The Gays, United.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hmmm it's been a long time. I wonder if anyone will read this random out of no-where update??? well i suppose we'll find out. In this installment: "Dave and John are literally 5 years old and don't give a shit anymore."

John is a pretty weird kid. You're just going to put that out there right now. John Egbert is a pretty fucking _weird _kid. Sometimes he does shit that doesn't even make any sense, and his quirks are pretty strange. For starters, he can't have the television volume set at an odd number. You learned this the first time you slept at his house (Bro teased you before he let you go and said that you were "so fuckin' whipped" and that he was "never going to let you live this down. Dave Strider, going to a _slumber _party? Ha! You're a riot, kid." He quickly praised you right after that for meeting your irony quota for the month and let you leave the car).____

____Sometimes John will wake up in the middle of the night and walk up to one of the many posters he has on his walls and he'll just start _scribbling _on them. You never get to see what he actually does to them, because as soon as he finishes, he seems to snap out of a trance to angrily take down the poster. He rolls it up and shoves it under his bed, his hands shaking as he does so. You pretend to be asleep, and more often than not, you pretend not to notice his trembling hands. If he wants to tell you about what's going on, you're certain that he will.___ _ _ _

______John also has a strange tendency to wake up just before the sun starts to rise so he can watch it. He gets so fucking stoked over it, too, that you just can't help but feel excited as well. That night you slept over, he woke you up at five in the morning (it was a damn Saturday) and said that the sun was finally rising. He even went to ask you if you wanted to watch it with him. And really, who are you to deny the kid when he asks you so nicely? You're a sucker for blue eyes, what can you say?_ _ _ _ _ _

______He also sleeps with a teddy bear and has a night light. All in all, he's a fucking dork and you can't say that you mind in the slightest._ _ _ _ _ _

______It's been a few weeks since you met, crushed together in a stifling locker, and you're proud to say that things have gotten so much better since the little scamp waltzed into your life like some sort of buck-toothed ballerina with an obsession with the color blue. Your grades have finally started coming back up again and you've finally been able to sleep more at night. It's not like everything has been fixed, and you still have bad days, but now you have a chill as hell best friend to hang with when the situation turns sour._ _ _ _ _ _

You think that your favorite part of having John as a best friend is the fact that he's always there for you, as mind-numbingly cheesy as that sounds. You're both huge losers, you being the lanky dork that you are, and John being the short and chubby dweeb that he is, you fit together like some odd puzzle pieces that got forced together even though they weren't even supposed to go next to each-other, but now you can't fucking separate them even if you tried. It's in the little things John does that make him so incredible. For instance, just the other day you were walking home with John when some asslamp from your American Lit class came by the both of you on his skateboard and purposely cut in front of you on the sidewalk so you ended up fumbling over him in his wake and skidding your arms on the sidewalk. John yelled after him, called him a jackass, and leaned over to help you up. "Let's get you to my place," he said with worry pinching at his eyebrows. "I'll get my dad to bake you a cake or something while we clean those scrapes up. I know you like cake."

"Are you kidding me?" You said, trying to keep your voice from wobbling because that would be _totally _uncool. "I fucking _love _cake." John shook his head with a small smile and helps you stand again. You know he tried to pretend your eyes weren't watering because you still like to pretend you're some sort of macho-man, and macho-men don't cry over silly little things like scrapes or blood.____

____Yet again, John has an uncanny habit of being able to see right through you, even if you really don't want him to._ _ _ _

But enough of this reminiscing bullcrappery! Right now, you're hangin' with John and you guys are just being generally cool and having a great time, let's focus on that instead. It's a few minutes after the last bell and school is finally out, your long week is over and it's finally Friday, which means that today is movie night at John's place (yes you guys actually do that, and _no _it is so not lame) (yes it is). You and John are sitting on the football field, and the fall wind sweeps past the both of you and makes a shiver race down John's spine. You lay down and cross your arms behind your head, sighing as you're finally allowed to relax.__

__Fuck the system. The school system, to be exact._ _

__He rips up some blades of grass and tosses them at your face, laughing when you spit them out of your mouth and swipe them from your eyes. "Haha, you shoulda seen your face, Dave!"_ _

__You rip up some blades in your palm as well and throw them into his open mouth, laughing back victoriously as he hacks them up. "That's what you get. Maybe that'll teach you to not be a fucking prick."_ _

__Once John is done getting the grass from the back of his throat, he turns back to you and splays his hand out on his chest. "Me, a prick?" He bats his eyelashes at you, and his cheeks are pink from the abrasive wind chilling both of you to your bones. You try, and fail, not to notice. "Why, Dave, I'm hurt that you'd think of me like that!"_ _

You laugh at him under your breath and prod his shoulder with your index finger. "Well _maybe _if you stopped acting like one I wouldn't have to call you out on it, Eggs."__

__John leans forward and snatches your shades right off of your face (he bought you new ones. Aviators. Fuckin' ironic as hell, he surpassed your "ironic" expectancy) and folds the temples, shaking them in front of your face._ _

__"Hey give 'em back dude. Not cool." When you go to reach for them he tskes stretches his arm so they're out of your grasp. You can tell that he's enjoying himself. The bastard. John's smile stretches to his eyes and it's infectious, you find yourself smiling along with him as you try and reach for the glasses._ _

__"Nope! I've revoked your shade privileges! If you really want them you're going to have to stretch those scrawny arms of yours, Dave!" You groan and try stretching it further but he moves away from you by a few inches, and your glasses just get that much farther. "Come on, streeeeeetch!" Oh he is _such _an ass.___ _

____Sick of trying to grab them, you tackle John into the grass and he laughs, trying to roll over and away from you. "Not today, Johnny," you say, still desperately trying to reach your glasses. You become hyperaware of John's soft stomach and his tender skin, the way his teeth show when he laughs with his mouth open. The way his feet kick out on the grass when you try tickling his sides to make him surrender. Oh man, this is so _gay _.___ _ _ _

______"No, hahahahahaha. Dave, okay. Uncle. Uncle, uncle! I- hahahaha stop tickling me, I give, I give!"_ _ _ _ _ _

John quite literally throws the shades at your face in a fit of frenzied tickle-anguish. The corner goes straight into your eye, pain erupts, and you fall back into the grass with a yelp. Nice. Your eye waters as you viciously rub it with your hand, and John practically rushes over to you. "Dave, are you okay?"

Without answering, you sock him in the arm. He laughs, picks up your shades for you where they fell after stabbing you, and slips it into your jacket pocket without another word. He smiles at you and laughs again when you sock him another time. "Sorry! But you really shouldn't have tickled me, this is what you get. Your holy punishment for torturing me at the mercy of your weird lanky fingers!"

"Are you saying that my glasses got possessed by Jesus Fucking Christ and flew to shank me in the eye just because I was tickling you?" You take your hand away and blink a few times, trying to make them stop watering. Christ, this hurts like a bitch.

John ponders over what you said for a moment before sticking his tongue out at you. "Mmmmmm, yep! That is exactly what I'm saying."

"No mercy, huh? You're a cruel, cruel mistress, Johnathan."

John opens his mouth to say something back, but he stops suddenly as a large shadow comes over you and casts over your sitting body. You scrunch up your eyebrows in irritation. Man, you seriously thought the meat-heads had football practice off today. But apparently not, because here they are, not _not _having practice.__

__You turn your head and lift your eyebrows, still unamused and nonchalant (really, you're more pissed than anything that they interrupted what you two were doinh. Do they have any fucking manners?). John makes an annoyed groaning sound behind your turned head and throws his hands up. "What the hell do you guys want? Can't you see we're busy?" Ah yes. John, ever the biggest smartass on the whole planet._ _

__Eridan, this lanky dude that follows the football team everywhere but isn't even on the team, sneers at the both of you but otherwise doesn't say a thing. What a coward, you think. You used to be friends with him, a long time ago, but after he became desperate for friends higher up on the social ladder and he realized you weren't going to cut it, he began tailing his older brother Cronus around like a lost puppy until he let him hang around him and his pals. Through Cronus, Eridan met some of the football players, and thus another one of their cronies was born._ _

__Anyway, you're getting off topic. One of the faceless jocks at the front of the group (you think his name starts with an E... Erik? Earl? No. Equius? Yeah, you think that's it) leans down to shove his finger near your face. His quiet yet intimidating voice floats down to the both of you, though you still feel amazingly unimpressed by their scare tactics. "You listen here, _Strider _," he spits your name out like it's shit in his mouth. Equius furrows his brows and continues, "if you think that you two hooligans can sit here when your _betters _need the field, I have some news for you."_____ _

______John pipes up behind you. "Our betters? What the absolute fuck are you trying to say here, that you asswagons are somehow better than us?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Eridan sort of just pushes himself to the front of this all and puts his hands on his hips. "That is exactly what he's sayin'. And if the both a' you refuse to leave, then we'll just have Gamzee over here rough ya' fuckers up."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Gamzee, who has stayed absolutely silent until this point puts his hands up from the back of the crowd and calls out, "Hey, I'm not up for gettin' my violence up in here and hurtin' these pals, leave me outta this, bro." Wow, what a wonderful Samaritan. You roll your eyes._ _ _ _ _ _

______"John, maybe we should just leave," you whisper over to him as Equius and Eridan begin to bicker. "It's not worth it."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Like hell it isn't worth it!" He whispers back fiercely. "These fucktrucks just can't push us around whenever they feel like it!"_ _ _ _ _ _

You sigh, mostly to yourself, and kick back on the grass. "Aigh't. If that's the case, we might as well make this as interesting as possible." 

John flops down beside you, crossing his legs in front of him and closing his eyes to the sky. "That's the spirit!"

Equius hisses at Eridan, and you tune in to their argument. "Would you tone down your obscene language?"

Ampora throws his hands up in what seems to be surrender, but for him, it's just another way he shows his sarcastic personality. "Hey, it ain't my fault ya' practically live in the middle ages! Lighten up a little pal."

The rest of the football team watches on and eventually one of them gets fed up enough to speak up. "Are we getting these assholes off the turf or what? I gotta be home by six, man."

Some other people shout out in agreement and you sigh, closing your eyes as well. If there's anything you learned from your Bro, it's that fighting an unfair fight is never the way to win. And when you two are outnumbered like this, you seriously think it would be wisest to retreat. So, while the football players bicker back and forth like children, you sit up, roll your shoulders, and crack you neck. You shake John, nod your head to the fence not even twenty feet away, and grab his hand. He shrugs too, seeing your point with the whole "outnumbered" thing, and lets you intertwine your fingers with his to lead him away.

You slip from the scene without them even noticing your departure.

"Seriously," you begin as the two are you are leaving campus. "Those sploogewads aren't even fuckin' worth it."

John shrugs. "I guess you're right, but I kinda wish we put up more of a fight and got to frustrate them more. Watching them bicker is actually really entertaining!"

"Can't argue with you there, dude. It's like watching a bunch of kindergartners scramble over the last cookie on the multi-colored baby table. Pathetic."

He giggles, swinging your intertwined fingers between the two of you with ease. Neither of you minds touching each-other affectionately, and even though John claims it's strictly "bro platonic!" you can't say that you mind.

. And really, it's totally fine with you. 

You'd probably cut off your own dick to have sex with John Egbert. You'd soak in honey and lay out on top of an anthill. You aren't even joking, you'd do a _lot _if it meant having sex with this kid. To put it simply, you're pretty desperate. And whatever contact you can have with him counts for something in your books.__

__You vaguely note that your shades are still in your pocket and you slide them out to slip them on your face. You didn't even realize that they'd been off for the whole ordeal._ _

John looks up at the sky for a moment, his eyes scanning the clouds like he can see worlds in each patch. He's got a crazy imagination, and sometimes when you two are alone he'll just point to the sky and start naming off the things he sees. There's so much charm in this kid you don't even know where to fucking begin.

__John looks back down from the sky and grins. "So, what movie are we gonna watch tonight?"_ _

__Well, you think, looking at your entwined fingers and giving a shrug. You may not be boyfriends, and John might not even be gay. Or at least not straight. You may just stay like this forever as friends._ _

__For some reason, this doesn't bother you at all. You think that you could stay friends with John forever and still be happy with it._ _

__"Whatever man," you settle for in reply. "You pick, I don't fucking care."_ _

__In your own way, this is an affectionate statement. John looks at you like he understands. An unspoken language between the two of you._ _

__ i appreciate you a lot man _ _

__ thank you _ _

__ pffff you are such a dork, dave! there's no need to thank me. _ _

__... _ _

__ but yeah, i appreciate you too, doofus. _ _

__

__"But no Nic Cage. That's where I draw the line." You add after you break off eye contact with him. "I don't want to see that creep in my dreams anymore. Every time we watch something with him in it I end up having nightmares for days."_ _

__"Awww you're no fun!" John says, knocking his shoulder against yours. "You know I haven't liked those movies for a while anyways, shut up."_ _

Your hands are still grasped firmly together, as if neither of you are willing to let go.

__Yeah. You could get used to this._ _

...

no homo though  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did this suck? im p sure this sucked. oops

**Author's Note:**

> Oops my writing sucks, I'm sorry. It's late and I'm tired. Sueeeee me


End file.
